


Bloodstained Promises

by Silverplier (The_Silverblood_Writer), The_Silverblood_Writer



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), Youtubers, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: A Date With Markiplier, A heist with Markiplier - Freeform, Gen, Post-Who Killed Markiplier?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21661633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Silverblood_Writer/pseuds/Silverplier, https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Silverblood_Writer/pseuds/The_Silverblood_Writer
Summary: The District Attorney is dead.Decades have passed since the fateful dinner party, and the horrors of Markiplier Manor have faded into memory. And while Wilford Warfstache and Darkiplier still have some degree of power, the District Attorney remains dead. Forgotten. Alone.But everything changes when one man plans a Heist unlike any other. Legends start to become history. Dreams become reality. And the dead have trouble staying that way.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	1. Prologue

It was a beautiful night. Perfect and clear, not a cloud in the sky. The moonlight was the only thing that illuminated the streets, casting an eerie silver glow on the streets. It was the kind of night that made you want to go stargazing, or waltz in the evening air, or go for a midnight walk on the beach.

Or, you know, rob a museum.

 _Well, that turned around pretty quickly_. Yeah, I guess it did. No point in denying that. And yet I sat crouched behind a stone brick wall, grappling gun in hand, ready to join my associate inside. Not the kind of thing you’d expect from me, in all honesty. I guess that makes the plan all the better. You wouldn’t expect someone like me to be assisting in a heist. I’m a law student. I want to become a prosecutor, the kind of person who convicts criminals.

I’m really contradicting myself here, aren’t I? I want to be a prosecutor, I want to rob a museum. You’d expect me to undergo some sort of moral dilemma, but no. Truth be told, I’m actually excited. My associate and I had been planning this for months, now. It was a really big thing for both of us. For me, I was paying off a lifelong debt. And for him... well, he really needed whatever it was we were stealing. 

Right, my associate. His name was Mark Fischbach, although he went by his online nickname Markiplier. He was an… interesting character. Somewhat eccentric, usually really sweet, sometimes sensitive. Quite charming. When he came to me with his idea to rob the museum, I couldn’t resist. Although his planning skills were somewhat lacking. Not to mention his decision making was shabby. He always turned to me whenever he was forced with an important decision. Hopefully I could stop him from completely flunking the heist, or dying in the process. We’d get in, grab his little “box,” and get out undetected. Everything would go according to plan, I repeatedly reassured myself.

How wrong I was.

* * *

Imagine something. Anything. Something happy: beautiful sunrise, a tantalizingly delicious plate of food, your family or pet. Or something less so: a failed exam, a broken glass, a lost lover. Anything.

Now erase that. Erase everything. Leave nothing behind. Clear your mind until it’s only darkness, an empty soulless void.

That’s what it was like at first. Dark and lonely, barren and cold. No sound, no sight, nothing. Ragged breathing the only thing that pierces the air, the warmth of blood on your stomach the only sensation you feel, and nothing else. So isolated it felt like I didn’t even exist. Maybe I didn’t exist, maybe this was what death was like. Not heaven or hell, no afterlife, no cycle of rebirth. Just nothingness.

So I had lain in the darkness, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, being nothing. And I’d almost given up hope, had almost resigned myself to laying here, still and unmoving.

Until, one day, as I aimlessly traced my hand in circles along the floor of the void, I felt something. Soft to the touch and so unbelievably smooth, delicate and fragile.

With great effort, I finally managed to pry my eyes open. There, a sharp contrast to the darkness that surrounded me, was a tiny pink flower. Five rosy petals bloomed outwards, forming a little star. It looked so fragile, so out of place ... and yet it was there. Unless this was some cruel joke played on me by my own warped mind, I wasn’t the only thing here.

I softly stroked the delicate petals, feeling the silken flower beneath my fingertips. It was fascinating, the only thing in here that was different. Vibrant. Beautiful.

_It was an accident… I swear!_

_We’re giving you a choice here._

_None of this makes any sense! That’s the beauty of it!_

_So much trouble… all for something so small..._

I wildly looked around for the source of the voices. I recognized them… or at least vaguely recognized them. I recalled two of those lines… the first two were both said to me. Right as I…

Right as I died. The Colonel apologizing for shooting me. And Celine begging me to let her in. Was that even Celine? Or was it another of those… things… using her as a mere puppet to get into a body. My body.

And what about the other two lines? The ones I didn’t recognize? The first one sounded like the Colonel, yet at the same time not the Colonel. Something had changed, something had happened to him. And the other one… while I’d never heard the voice directly, I could almost immediately match it to a face. I still remember those obsidian eyes, the shifting red and blue auras, the sadistic smile as he just walked away with my body.

More than ever, I wanted to escape this mirror realm, trapped behind a wall of glass, helpless as everything folded out before me.

Slowly, with great effort, I pulled myself to my feet. My knees shook, and I struggled not to fall over again. I glanced back down at the flower, then shifted my gaze to everything else around me. Nothing, except for one tiny speck in the distance.

My footsteps made no noise, as if we were in a vacuum. Maybe we are in a vacuum.

Great. Now I’m saying we. I’ve given the flower sentience. Ladies and gentlemen, I am officially going mad.

The next flower was identical to the first. I heard more voices, warped and distorted.

_Life is for the living..._

_Life is ours to choose..._

_Life needed a bit of madness..._

_Why should death be any different?_

I followed the trail of flowers, wincing every time I hear those voices, until finally, after what felt like years of walking (although it can’t have been more than a few hours) I arrived at the end of the road.

I spent the last… how long has it been? Few decades trapped in this realm. The Entity, masquerading as Celine, threw me into the upside-down, trapping me in the mirror. But before me I saw the most glorious sight: hundreds upon hundreds of cracks, streaking through the black void. They were glowing bright white, and I could even see fragments of the Manor through the largest.

I ran over to one near my level, putting my hands up to the crack. To my ecstatic delight, I could slip my hand through, into the manor! I couldn’t get out of here, the remainder of the darkness acted like bars on a jail cell, enclosing me inside the void. But I could see the Manor. Maybe it wasn’t completely hopeless, maybe I still had the chance to escape.

I felt something crunch beneath my heel. It was a sliver of glass, probably from the mirror when it broke. For a moment I ignored it, but something compelled me to bend over, to pick it up. I glanced at it to see my reflection, but instead of my own face, I saw nothing. Just more of the void Maybe a faint outline, but no refined details of who I was. _I am the reflection_ , I miserably thought to myself, aiming to throw the seemingly useless piece of glass away.

A barely audible noise stayed my hand. It was… music. Jazz music, to be exact. It seemed to be emanating from the shard, which was softly singing the melody.

I stared back at the shard and saw Abe, the detective from the manor. My former “partner.” He was just sort of standing there, the image of him in noir.

“Abe!” I shouted, knowing he couldn’t hear me. The noise was deafening. I realized that this was the first time I'd spoken since the sobs and pleads to be released from the mirror, to no avail. But it was so good to see Abe, so good to know that he was alright. Funny, I thought he’d been shot by the Colonel, like me. But at least Abe made it out. At least he wasn’t dead, or worse, trapped like me.

Unless… he wasn’t free. Looking at him now, he didn’t seem the same. Sure, his appearance was identical, but there was something in his eyes… something bleak and haunted. Like he wasn’t actually in his body, like his mind was somewhere else, and he was walking around as a barren shell.

I watched him for a while. He’s gone crazy, hunting down the Colonel after years. Although he isn’t the Colonel anymore. He’s completely insane, christening himself “Wilford ‘Motherloving’ Warfstache.” And he’s… he’s changed. He shed his safari gear in favor of a bright pink afro and a fuchsia silken shirt. Laughing and dancing, acting as if nothing horrible had ever happened to him. As if everything was alright. 

But this wasn't the Colonel. This wasn't the mildly eccentric, fun-loving, somewhat repressive man I'd met in Markiplier Manor. This was a crazy man, who was so haunted by his past, so stricken with grief, he'd become a new person entirely. A shudder of fear coursed through my body as I realized what had happened to him. What Markiplier had done to him. 

Abe seems relatively the same, but he's just... tired. Not tired in the I-need-to-go-to-bed sense, but tired of this world. Tired of the endless running. Tired of playing games he couldn't win. Tired of living. 

It’s only after Abe realized what’s happened to him… to us… that I started to feel tears running down my face. I realized that I’ve been grasping the shard of glass so tightly my hand has started bleeding. The pain is, in a sense, refreshing. I haven’t felt it in… how long has it been? Weeks? Months? For all I know, centuries could have flown by, and I wouldn’t have aged a day.

The two of them ended up dancing, celebrating, having _fun_. I felt so happy for them, to be as jovial as they are. I wished I could join them, my fingertips gently and longingly traced over the smooth surface of the glass. I gently set it down and wiped my tears away, staining my cheeks with blood from my hand, so my face probably looked like it was covered in some demented war paint.

The image reset back to Abe in black and white. The images started to play again, exactly the same. I watched it once more, realized that it wasn’t actually a view of the outside world, but rather, fragments of history, constantly replaying in these shards of glass. I moved to set it down, but instead held onto this shard. It would be nice to have that memory with me, the knowledge that Abe was alright and _happy._

I set out to collect more shards, to desperately try to gain some knowledge of what was happening. Some of the tiny ones only had pictures, or snapshots of what I’d already seen. I collected four more reasonably sized ones, each of them detailing the events of what had happened in Markiplier Manor. Strangely enough, they all seemed to be from my point of view….

I stared back at the cracks in the void, back at Markiplier Manor. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, but I was sure of one thing. Mark had hurt my friends. He had murdered me. He had turned Celine and Damien into a vicious monster that hadn’t hesitated to betray me and trap me in here. I was going to escape this mirror.

And then, I was going to kill him. I was going to kill Markiplier.


	2. An Extraordinarily Bad Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The District Attorney has an idea. It's not a very good one, but at least it's an idea. (Lol, that's me irl though.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. This is... the fastest I've ever updated a story. Fair warning: don't expect frequent updates. I am a potato who is bad at that sort of stuff.

I had an endless supply of memories to view and review. I was slowly piecing together the fragments of the past. I was seaming together what had happened to each of my friends. 

And I was still trapped. We all were. Only, I was trapped literally, while my friends had metaphorical cages imprisoning them. Out of everyone, I was the only one who was still… me. And I was the only one who was confined from the outside world. 

Wilford wasn’t trapped literally. Out of all of us, he was the one with the most freedom. Following the events of Markiplier Manor, he had just sort of… snapped. Broken. When he saw “me” be resurrected, he somehow gained the permanent belief that death was arbitrary. Reversible. A game.

Mark had seized Celine’s body and escaped without much consequence. I wondered if he ever thought about what he’d done. The unfortunate thing was, even if I did escape, finding him would be a nightmare. Although I’d endured nightmares. I’d be willing to fight through one more. He’d also entwined his spirit with another, one of those… things… in the house. Although that could make it a bit easier to find him. Maybe there was one way for me to track him. Either way, it wasn’t Mark. Not 100% Mark at any rate. 

Abe was… I don’t know. He was last seen with Wil, then he just… vanished. I assume he returned to society, just as the butler and chef had done. I hope he returned safely. He and Damien actually seemed to care about me. Abe did have a funny way of showing it, though. 

And of course, Celine and Damien. They’d become one being now, hadn’t they? They called themselves Darkipkier, a modified version of Markiplier. I… couldn’t dwell on that. On him. Maybe there was a part of me that lived Damien. Maybe I still do love him. But I didn’t live Darkiplier. He had taken Damien from me. It was like Damien was just… erased. No aspect of Dark seemed to mirror Damien at all, just Celine’s controlling demeanor and a certain streak of sadism I was sure came from the entity within….

I had been monitoring them. Making sure everything was alright. Staring at them through those little shards of glass. And carefully planning my revenge against Markiplier. I assembled the most important memories and put them aside, frequently rewatching them to catch some tiny detail that could help me escape. Of course, the events at Markiplier Manor. William’s fate. And one that I could hardly watch without breaking down into tears: Damien’s.

I missed him. I missed all of them, but I missed him the most. I still remember our first day at University together… we’d graduated at the top of our class, and eventually I went to continue my law studies while Damien began pursuing politics. And then somehow, miraculously, I managed to up my reputation as a prosecutor until Damien caught wind of my cases and got back in contact with me. He managed to get a few good words in with the right people and soon I was the city District Attorney. 

Two nights after my election, Damien invited me to a dinner party as his plus one. He said it was “to celebrate your new position,” but I think he was just… scared… to face Mark again. He needed support with his old friend, and I had been willing to assist him. 

Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder… what if I didn’t say yes? Would I just be blissfully oblivious to what had happened? I’d probably hear the news of Damien’s disappearance, I’d pray he’d return, and likely I’d slowly but surely move on. And without my body to use as his vessel… Darkiplier would never have been brought into this world. 

But then again, nobody would be around to stop Mark. So maybe it was all for the best. It’s just… difficult. To live like this. Or rather, to _not_ live like this. I was, in most regards, dead. My soul was barred from reaching the afterlife or whatever happens when you die. Don’t ask me, I’m just a DA, not an all-knowing religious person. 

Being here gave me some insight as to what was going on in the Manor. No one had entered or left in a long, long time. The chef and the butler had long since vanished, and I doubted the groundskeeper was here either. In any case, he hadn’t set foot in the house since… you know… 

From what I’d seen, there was no real escape from this place. Likely I was doomed to stay here forever. I didn’t have mysterious powers or any of the entities on my side, and although the mirror was shattered, I couldn’t escape through the cracks. And even if I did, I probably wouldn’t last a day before being found by Mark or Dark, or having yet another of the entities claiming _my_ soul for its own.

But maybe I didn’t have to physically leave the mirror to escape. While my spirit was trapped, there’s only so much you can do to restrain it. It wasn’t physical, after all. And while I was barred from entering the real world as _me,_ maybe it didn’t have to be me alone…

As far as I knew, there were at least two entities that were, at some point present in the house. One had stolen Celine’s body and was now running loose (which I would do my best to stop if I ever escaped) and the other had taken my body, as well as Celine and Damien’s consciousness. But somehow, I doubted that there were only two mysterious forces present here. No, this house was clearly much more complex than that… 

This was going to be dangerous. Really dangerous. Like, stick-a-fork-in-the-light-socket-while-simultaneously-dropping-a toaster-into-your-bath dangerous. (I’m great at analogies, if you couldn’t tell.) But I saw the power of these entities. I knew what they could do. And maybe, just maybe, I could figure out how to use one of them to my advantage. 

I… wasn’t really sure how it was going to work. _If_ it was going to work. But there were four extremely dangerous beings out there in the real world, and I needed revenge on all of them. Mark had set this whole scheme up. The entity, now Celine, had manipulated him into doing it. Darkiplier was walking around in my body. And William had delivered the mortal injury, the killing blow. Although I suspected that that would have happened one way or another….

“Can you hear me?” I called, my voice shaking slightly. 

No response. I hesitantly walked up to the cracks in the mirror, until I could see the door to Markiplier Manor. 

“Can you hear me?” I asked again, this time louder, more sure of myself. 

I didn’t hear anything in response, but that didn’t mean I didn’t get an answer. The air(?) around me seemed to shift slightly. It wasn’t noticeable or anything, just enough to make my hair stand on end. I tensed up, knowing that, if I were to turn back now, it would be my last chance to do so.

“So you are there. This… is my last resort. There’s nothing left for me to do, other than to sit here and refuse to die.”

Another shift. It was somehow colder, but there wasn’t any breeze to indicate the fact. I could see goosebumps forming on my arms, and they weren’t because of the cold. And… silence. Then, a low whisper. Neither masculine nor feminine, neither deep nor high. It wasn’t coming from the outside, it was emanating from within me, so that I could hear it with no interruption. **_What do you seek?_ **

“I need help. I’ve seen what your kind can do. If I have even a chance of escape, I need the power you possess.”

**_And what would you do with said power?_ **

I swallowed, trying to think of what to say. “I… I would make things right.”

**_How?_ **

I clenched my fists. “In whatever way I can.”

**_Twice, we have manipulated you pathetic humans into obeying us. And yet you come forth and willingly extend this offer? Interesting…_ **

“I’m willing to do anything for my friends.”

**_Such a boring motive. I know what you’re really after._ **

“And what is that?”

**_Revenge. And that is a goal I can help you reach._ **

“How?”

**_You just need to let me in._ **

I’d heard that before. And look where it landed me. 

**_I can hear your thoughts. You were willing to take this risk, were you not? Either live with the risk or turn back now, and leave them all to die._ **

“How can I trust you?”

**_You can’t._ **

I’d assumed as much. But if I stopped now, all my friends… what little family I had left… what would become of them? And I would remain here, trapped inside this mirror realm for eternity, never experiencing the freedom of life nor death. 

“I’ll do it.” And just like that, my fate was sealed. I could feel something… change. My heart beat a little faster, my stomach felt a little heavier, and just the tiniest spark of rage fluttered in my heart. The entity had fused with me, although it was doing a very good job of maintaining a subtle presence. 

**_Walk through the mirror._ **

I did as I was told, and was no longer halted before entering the room. With a jolt, I crashed onto the floor of Markiplier Manor, sprawled out in the foyer. I gasp for breath, finally feeling the sweet sensation of drawing a real breath. The cuts on my hands blossomed with pain, but it was refreshing to actually _feel_ something. 

The manor hadn’t changed. Everything was exactly the same, from the white marble halls to the statues to the bloodstains…. If it was the same, I assumed the police hadn’t investigated the manor after everything. All of us must have effectively vanished from history.

**_Welcome back._ **

I was finally free. It felt… amazing. I couldn’t even put my emotions into words, but I think the closest thing to describe it would be pure ecstasy. But I had little time for celebration. I had to track down everyone who had been in Markiplier Manor that night. 

And then? Well, I had to make things right, didn’t I?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exposition is all out of the way. In case you couldn't tell, the character at the very beginning of the first chapter is, in fact, the District Attorney. You'll find out what's going on with them later, but you gotta keep reading to find out! 
> 
> The next chapter will have some major spoilers for A Heist With Markiplier, so you should probably watch that if you haven't already. And go for all the endings! It's fun!


	3. The Heist: Version 001

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a filler chapter, so sorry about that. I need this to set up important plot points in the future, which I will not spoil for you. Anyway, as always, enjoy!

_**October 30, 2019** _

* * *

I checked the time on my watch. Only a few more minutes until Mark was ready to meet me inside. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get there before him,” I muttered to myself. I took a grappling hook out of my pocket, loading it into the grapple gun. The cable was rather thin… I hoped it was enough to actually support me. Strangely enough, I wasn’t keen on splatting on the sidewalk the night of the heist. 

Taking careful aim, I fired the grapple upward. It latched onto the glass walkway, and holding on to the gun for dear life, I allowed myself to be pulled upwards. 

I vaulted over the glass rail, taking care not to leave any sort of marking. I glanced around, the hall was completely empty. Good.

I made my way over to an air vent. The air blowing out of it was cool, which elicited a groan from me. I don’t like the cold in the slightest. Nevertheless, I pushed the grate open and wormed my way inside. It was bigger than I’d expected, which was a good thing. Now if Mark’s entry route failed, he could squeeze his way on through here. Due to his “enormous girthy muscles” (his words, not mine), he’d found a different method of entry. However, I like keeping my bones intact and I have a slim frame, so I chose the  _ sensible _ route. 

I pulled myself down the duct and dropped into the room below. I landed with minimal noise, which was good. We were trying to keep a low profile after all.

Strange, Mark said he was going to be h-

I heard a faint scream, getting louder each second. Before I could so much as turn my head, a deafening crash rang through the air. Shards of glass rained to the floor and with them was, in all his glory, Mark. 

“Mark?! Are you-” 

Before I could check to make sure he’s okay, he immediately sprang up, somehow entirely unscathed. 

“All right, we’re in. You know the plan, right? Ah, what am I saying. You practically wrote it! Everything you need is in your bag, so let’s synchronize our watches on three.”

In my bewilderment, I didn’t even know how to respond.  _ Yes I know the plan. I  _ did  _ write it. I know where my stuff is. Are you alright? Weren’t we maintaining a low profile?  _ But his words were so rapid-fire I couldn’t find the time to speak, and I was still comprehending how he actually… survived that fall, so I simply nodded my head and prepared to synchronize. 

“Three!” Without a countdown, he pressed the button on his watch. 

_ Okay then. Guess we aren’t going to articulate ourselves or anything.  _

“Perfect!” He exclaimed, looking as happy as always. “Now, stick to the plan and you’ll be just fine. But-” his demeanor changed, from determined and excited to grim and somewhat harsh- if you deviate from it for even a single moment, I won’t come back for you.” And all at once, his smile returned, his tone lifting upward. “Okay? Good luck!” With that he fired his grappling gun and sprung away, leaving once again without waiting for an answer. 

I was not concerned about deviating from the plan. I did write it down, the whole thing, start to finish. The way we saw it, there were 31 possible solutions, although most of them were random bullshit ideas we came up with at 3am after being hyped up on adrenaline and Mountain Dew. I think more than one of them involved a zombie apocalypse, so my primary concern was getting into the vault and getting… whatever it was Mark needed. He wasn’t too clear on that aspect, which was okay with me. I was just repaying a debt to Mark. Didn’t need any more information than that. 

I reached into my bag. The first thing I found was… a steak. Huh. When I told Mark to deal with the guards, I didn’t mean-- 

“Hey!”

_ Well shit. _

“What do you think you’re doing?” I turned my head slowly to see a security guard staring at me, weapon in hand. This… wasn’t good. I held out the steak slowly, realizing that my nerves were probably getting the better of me.  _ Seriously? Offering him a steak? What kind of robber are you? _

“Oh no! Not the old steak trick. I’m not falling for that twice.” Twice. Would have been funny if not for the gun pointed at my face. 

“Yeah, put the steak down, I’m not even gonna look at that steak. I’m looking at you, right in the eyes…. I looked at the steak.”

He probably said something else, but my attention became directed towards the plant behind him, which wasn’t a normal bush, but rather, my partner disguised as a potted plant. In one swift motion, Mark leapt out of the leaves, incapacitating the guard silently. I’d have been grateful, but he did shatter a whole skylight, so… that was a bit of a problem. 

“Shh.” Of all of the plant or stealth related one-liners he could have said, he had to just say “shhh.” I’d say something like “ _ seed  _ you later” or “ _ leaf  _ them alone,” but I wasn’t here to critique Mark’s one-liners. Okay, maybe I was here to critique his one liners. I had a habit of making shitty puns. 

“Nicely done buddy, all according to plan. And speaking of plan, looks like we are, uh-” he fumbled into his pocket for a map, pulled it out, and began the tedious process of unfolding it. “Eh, yeah. Looks like we’re moving on to phase 2. Are you ready? On my go. Go!”

Again with the lightning-speed questions. Did this man have any sense of patience? Did he ever read  _ The Tortoise and the Hare?  _ For shame, Mark. It was all I could do to not fall behind as he performed an impressive (but unnecessary) array of gymnastics across the floor.

“Couldn’t you just walk, Mark?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. 

He ignored me, frantically pointing. “ _ Behind you, behind you!” _

I turned around frantically, and could hear upbeat whistling coming in our direction. I dove behind cover, pressed my body against the opaque part of the display case. 

“He tracks the intruder, quiet as a ninja suppressing a fart in church.” He was  _ monologuing…  _ and not in a good way. I almost laughed aloud, but stifled it in order to stay hidden. 

“There she is.” My laughter vanished almost instantaneously, I felt my whole body tense up, and I prepared to fight if necessary. If I’d been spotted, the whole plan would go to shambles. It’s all I can do to hope he didn’t see me, that he was referring to someone else. 

“Three legged woman…” it was an art piece. He was talking to an art piece. I relaxed, and the rush of relief that coursed through my body drowned out the rest of his speech. I directed my gaze downward, fixating on a baseball inches away from my grasp. I took it in one hand and threw it. Not an MLB worthy pitch, but I’m glad that practicing baseball with my cousins finally had  _ some  _ use. Aside, of course, from humiliating them every family reunion.

He followed the sound, leaving the room. I exhaled a sigh of relief, and realized just how fast my heart had been beating. 

Mark and I “crept” our way into the vault room. I say crept like that because Mark wasn’t the stealthiest, and decided that sliding face-first across the floor was a good idea. Of course, it  _ was  _ Markiplier. So far, he crashed through a window, brought steaks along for a heist, and performed a completely unnecessary array of backflips. And that was  _ tonight.  _ You don’t even want to know how he had recruited me….

We arrived at the vault room, slightly flustered. Unfortunately for us, two security guards were there, unlocking the vault. Mark pressed against a pillar that was, conveniently enough, in the center of the room. I pressed my chest against his, so that I would be shielded as well. 

We were awfully close, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, but I put that out of mind. We were business partners. Nothing more. 

“You wanna know my favorite thing about this vault?” The guard’s voice carried so we both could hear it. From my position I could get a glimpse of him and his partner. 

“Go on…”

“You need two keys! One for you and one for me!” Why was he so happy about keys? I mean, there’s lots of things that require two keys. Really secure vaults, nuclear launches… hm, so maybe two keys  _ are  _ kind of cool. 

“Alright here we go… one, two, three…”

“Security!” There was a clicking noise, and another noise that sounded suspiciously like a car door locking. I could see Mark’s face contorted in frustration as we shuffled around the pillar to remain hidden. 

Mark and I agreed that we’d each get one key to the vault and reconvene back here. Mark promptly launched his grapple gun into the air. Before I could earn him of the consequence of launching a grapple fin indoors with nowhere to latch onto, he once again came tumbling down, this time into a pile of boxes. 

“Back in a flash,” he repeated, with the same boyish grin. I facepalmed as he ran off, this time (thankfully) on foot. 

I turned and tried to find a guard of my own. There wasn’t anything in sight, except there was some really heavy breathing. Turning, I see a silhouette of a wolf-like creature, although it was more werewolf than just a wolf. Every muscle in my body tensed up and I could once again feel my heart pounding in my ears…

And then I reminded myself that 1) it wasn’t a full moon, 2) werewolves wouldn’t fit in this tiny museum, and 3) werewolves were not real. Wow, I was  _ really  _ good at having major lapses in judgement. 

Looking at the source of the shadow, I was greeted by the single most adorable thing I’d ever seen: a golden retriever with a happy grin on her face. She was dressed in a security guard uniform, complete with a beautiful little hat perched on her fuzzy head. 

I almost squealed aloud when I saw her, but maintained my composure. I was going to be a  _ good  _ thief, unlike someone with an affinity for gymnastics and grapple guns. The dog (so cute so cute so cute) had a key hanging from her uniform. I questioned how a dog would manage to actually use the key, but didn’t really dwell on it. I’d seen my fair share of randomness already, most of it radiating from a certain YouTuber.

With precision to rival Indiana Jones as he exchanged the idol for a bag of sand, I exchanged the steak (so it did come in handy. I’d cross it off of my list of grievances) for the key on her belt. With a happy whimper and a wag of her tail, she ran off. 

Mark returned at about the same time I did, both of us with keys. He and I moved towards the vault. 

“Okay, on three-”

Oh no. I wasn’t falling for that trick again. Saying “three” immediately after saying “on three.” He might have fooled me once, but he wasn’t going to do that again. 

“One-”

I pressed my key into the lock without thinking, eliciting frustration from Mark. I didn’t think he was justified, but I let him sulk. Mark inserted his key, and the vault door opened. 

And that marked the beginning of the end. Because everything,  _ everything  _ was going to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you it was a filler chapter. But don't worry, next chapter isn't going to go through the whole thing. I need the first scene because plot reasons. Which I will proceed to not tell you.
> 
> Also- the rating on this pic might change to mature, depending on what I'm doing with Darkiplier's personality. So that's just a heads-up...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, Silver here. This was an idea I had to tie together the multitude of alter-ego related Markiplier stuff, and to give our character a more coherent storyline. The protagonist was written by a female, and that's who I picture going through these events, but they can be interpreted as any gender, sexuality, or ethnicity. Hope you enjoyed, chapter two will come out... sometime. I can't make promises.


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